How Not to Climb Fuji: #2

So we've already covered How Not to Climb Mt. Fuji #1, Wait Until the Last Minute

Image courtesy of Michal Marcol / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Now it is time for #2

2.  Do No Physical Conditioning

Part of the reason climbing Fuji is so popular is because it is totally doable even for a beginner.

But that doesn't mean it is just a walk in the park.

It is a very long way up and a very long way down.

At high elevation.

We meant to prepare.  We intended to do some shorter mountain hikes near home in the weeks preceeding our climb.  We meant to be working out daily leading up to the climb.

But it was a busy time (see post #1) and blah, blah, blah.

The truth is, I was the only member of the family who was regularly working out at the time.  Oldest Girl was frequently walking home the 2 miles from school and the Professor walked a lot in the normal course of his work but... the other two were essentially couch potatoes.

"We'll do a lot of hiking during our vacation in Guam," we said.  "There are lovely mountains in Guam."

It is true there are lovely mountains in Guam.  But the reality of tropical heat and humidity hit us harder than we expected and the lure of the lovely beaches and snorkeling was strong--too strong for us to resist.

We started up that mountain about 6 am full of energy and enthusiasm.  We were hiking with several other boy scout families and we were a chipper bunch.  Many of the scouts and siblings had participated in our Vacation Bible School so we even sang some VBS songs as we climbed.

We had perfect weather, warm but not hot, sunny clear skies.  Most horror stories about Fuji involve rain, fog and cold temperatures.  Not us.  It was beautiful.

I hadn't really thought much about the experience of hiking Fuji.  It was more of an item to be checked off a too do list.  But I must say I really enjoyed the hike up.  Honestly,  I throughly enjoyed the hike up.  Way, way more than I expected to.

Unfortunately, what goes up must come down.  But more on that later.

How NOT to climb Fuji

There is a saying among westerners stationed in Japan that if you don't climb Mt. Fuji while you are there you will end up stationed there again.

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Fuji climbing mishap stories abound as well.  It is a lot like birth horror stories.  When you are pregnant everyone seems to delight in telling you about how bad things went for them (or their cousin's cousin twice removed).

As soon as people hear you are planning to climb Fuji, the stories will come out.

Here's our story, or as I like to think of it, a tutorial in all the things NOT to do when planning to or actually climbing Fujisan.

I'm going to split it into parts and call it my "Top 10* Things Not to Do When Climbing Fuji"

Top 10 Things NOT to Do When Climbing Fuji

Number 1:  Wait Until the Last Minute

Very early on in our time in Japan we (that is the Professor and I) decided we wanted to climb Fuji.   But we wanted to do it with the kids so we decided to wait for them to get a bit bigger so they would be able to make the climb.

Our last summer in Japan was approaching and it was a very full one.  The window for climbing Fuji is small.  You can only go in July and August.  It was hard to see how we would fit this in.  Then the boy scouts announced a family trip to Fuji and it just happened to be at the only possible time for us to make the climb.  How could we pass this up?

The first week of July I was crazy busy preparing for the major event of my job, running a Vacation Bible School with over 250 kids and 100 volunteers.

The second week of July**, we went on a family vacation to Guam.  Great fun and very relaxing.

The third week of July was non stop motion preparing for VBS and asking myself what I was thinking taking a vacation the week before.

Then the crazy week of VBS itself.  All 5 of us were heavily involved including the Professor who helped out each day and then went to work and put in another full day.

VBS ended on Friday.

Sunday morning we went to the 8:00 am service and then drove the 12 hours down to Camp Fuji to meet up with the boy scouts.

Monday morning at 5 am we headed out to the mountain.

Tuesday afternoon the Professor took the train back home and the kids and I drove in to Tokyo so we could meet up with my brother and his family who were flying in for a visit.

So, tight schedule like I said.

'Cause when you're planning to climb a 3776 meters mountain it obviously makes sense to start out already exhausted right?
_______________________
*Or however many things I end up coming up with.  Obsessive pre-planning is obviously not my problem or I wouldn't have this story to tell.

**Only time the Professor could go

Don't know, can't reach

Children should do chores, right?

Image courtesy of franky242 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It is important for them to know they contribute to the family plus it teaches important life skills.

And of course, I get awfully tired of doing it all myself.

We don't do any kind of chore charts these days.  I tend to just nab any child who isn't actively doing homework when a job needs doing.  Not surprisingly this system leads to a lot of suddenly remembered homework.  Which is great because if said child was just goofing off prior to being nabbed there is obviously plenty of time for him (or her) to do the chore and then start on the homework that I am now aware needs doing.

Yesterday, Imagination Boy unloaded the dishwasher.  I was sitting at the table reading the newspaper (one of my important daily chores).  I glanced up and saw an amazing sight.

The dishwasher was empty and IB had the final dish in his hands and was opening all the cupboards looking for the proper place to put it.

I nearly had to choke back a sob.

My baby is growing up.

For years, IB would declare himself finished with the job of unloading the dishwasher and I would find it still half full of dishes.

"Those are the ones I don't know where they go or I can't reach to put them away" he would say.

Over the years, the phrase got shortened.

"Have you finished unloading the dishwasher," I would say.

"All but don't know, can't reach," he would reply.

The most annoying part of this is that usually Music Girl would be tasked with loading after IB had unloaded.  Rather than put away the clean dishes left behind or even alerting me to the situation, she usually just added dirty dishes to the clean.

But yesterday, yesterday my little boy not only was tall enough to reach any dish location in the kitchen, but he even took initiative to look for the proper place to put a dish he wasn't sure about.

I'm so proud.

Why the Professor Should Come Home for Dinner

They say that girls have a tendency to marry someone like their father.  In a lot of ways I did just that.  But apparently I also married my mother.

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When I was growing up money was tight so my mom was always looking to pinch pennies.  One of her strategies was to buy the cheap peanut butter, the kind that had a rock hard mass of peanut sludge on the bottom of the container and a thick coating of oil on the top.  To be even remotely edible this product required a good half hour of stirring before it could be spread on bread.

Nowadays people call this organic and pay extra for it.  They may even argue that the stirring is good because it give you a good arm workout thus counterbalancing the calories and striking a blow against childhood obesity.

Recently the Professor came home with this kind of peanut butter.  He was quite pleased that he found peanut butter without any palm oil.  "It might need a little stirring though," he warned.

Tonight at dinnertime the jar got opened for the first time.  Imagination boy looked at it in dismay.  He stirred for awhile.  Then I took over to give his arm a break.  I didn't last long either but not because my arm got tired.  I had an idea.  Why use muscle power when there is a kitchen full of gadgets to hand? Am I not my father's daughter?

"I have a great idea!" I said.

This made the children nervous.  I can't imagine why.

I pulled out my handy dandy stick blender.  "Here, plug this in behind you" I said to Imagination Boy as I started to put the blender in the jar in the middle of the table.

"No," three voices chorused.

"You'll make a big mess." (Like they would be the ones cleaning up any potential mess)

"At least do it on the counter where it won't splatter all over us."  (Okay, they may have a point there.)

I was pleased to see that the jar was just wide enough for the blender.  What it wasn't, was deep enough to hold all the peanut butter and the submerged blender.

The kids shouted in horror as the peanut butter overflowed.

"This is why Dad needs to make it home in time for dinner," Oldest Girl said.

In my defense the peanut butter was nicely mixed when I finished (apart from the chunky bits I scooped up from the outside of the jar and stuffed back in) and Imagination Boy did make and eat his sandwich.

By the way...

Type "most dreaded phrase" into google and you will come up with a plethora of articles written about the phrase "We need to talk".

But for me the most dreaded phrase is "By the way..."

This phrase gets used frequently in my house but somehow it is never followed by anything good.  I have never heard the following:

• By the way, I got 100% on that test I studied for.
• By the way, I'm leaving work early tomorrow to come home and take you to lunch.
• By the way, I loaded the dishwasher for you since I saw you were busy.

Instead the "By the ways..." in our house sound more like this.

• By the way, I need a check for $200 for band.
• By the way, I need to go in to work early tomorrow and I probably won't be home for dinner.
• By the way, all of my underwear is too tight and/or has holes so I've been wearing the same pair for a couple of days.  You should probably buy me some new pairs.

Image courtesy of Iamnee / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

My latest favorite came the other night at 9:00pm when Imagination Boy said to me, "By the way, I need assorted candy."

Me:  Assorted candy?

IB: Yes

Me: By when?

IB:  Tomorrow

Me: Why?

IB: For school.  (Imagination boy is a firm believer in never sharing too much information at once. It's like he thinks he is being charged by the word.)

Me: What kind of candy?

IB: Assorted

Me:  But what does that mean?

IB:  You know, assorted.

Me:  (Deciding to try a different tack) What is the candy for?

IB: School

Me: Yes, we established that already.  But what is it for at school?  Are you bringing it in to share for a class party.  Is it for a project?  What exactly are you planning to do with the assorted candy?

IB:  It's for a project.

Me:  Could you be more specific?

IB:  A science project

Me:  Could you be more specific?

IB: I need to create an edible cell model using assorted candy.

Finally, we were getting somewhere.  I could give you the rest of the conversation but if you have ever had school aged children or been one yourself you know where this is going.  Fill in for yourself the "how long have you known about this project", "what is your plan for solving this problem" and so on.

In the end, Imagination Boy turned in a brilliant edible cell made of cake and assorted candies.  I'd show you a picture but we forgot to take one.

I'd be even more frustrated with this behavior if I didn't recognize the pattern in myself sometimes. When there is a project I don't want to do, I also have a tendency to ignore it hoping it will just somehow go away.  I can't say that this strategy has ever been a helpful or useful one for me.

Laundry Routines

One of the good and bad things about a move is that it rips away your normal routines of daily life and forces you to figure out new ones.

This is bad because until you lose them you don't realize how comforting routines are.  Until you develop new routines, you feel unsettled and walk around with a vague sense of disequalibrium and also generally take way too long to do simple tasks.

This is good because some of your routines aren't really helpful but you keep doing it that way because that is just the way you do it.

And figuring out those new routines is a process of trial and error to see what works and what doesn't in your new home and location.  I always say it is a major accomplishment in each move when I finally settle into the routine for laundry that works in our new location.

Image courtesy of Keerati / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

In this house, I think I have now nailed my favorite laundry routine of all time.

For the record it is as follows.  Small hamper in kid's bath and master bedroom.  Emptied almost every day into three large hampers  (darks, mediums, whites) next to washer and dryer.  When one of these hampers is full, throw load in wash.  Put clean clothes in basket, hanging up items that need it on rod dangling from ceiling (thanks, Professor, brilliant idea).  Place basket on table next to dryer.

When tower of baskets on table threatens to tople or someone runs out of underwear grab Oldest Girl to help fold clothes and put away. Oldest Girl is necessary because she is the only member of the family who can tell her clothes apart from Music Girl's.

Music Girl will wear anything placed in her laundry basket as long as it is comfortable. Seasonal appropriateness and/or fashion and/or presence of holes in unfortunate locations will not faze her.

Imagination Boy will wear anything as long as it is black, jeans, an acceptable t-shirt (dark and plain or with some kind of geeky saying), or a black hoodie (since he wears a hoodie year round everywhere he goes I don't know why he cares so much about the t-shirts but he does).

When we lived in Japan and Hirokosan came to clean the house each week including doing the laundry, she had a tendency to assume any black clothes that weren't obviously man sized were Imagination Boy's.  He came out of his room one morning complaining that these pants are a little big. He was wearing my pants.  Whenever the girls couldn't find an item of clothing that was black they learned to look in Imagination Boy's room.

Since she also unloaded the dishwasher, Hirokosan's visits also led to the fun family game of "If you were Hirokosan, where do you think you would put the potato peeler (or whatever)?"

I miss Hirokosan.

But I digress, back to laundry.  A basket of clean folded laundry is deposited in each person's room. They all deal with it in their own way.

Oldest Girl has a detailed and complicated system for where each type (with subcategories) belongs and she puts them there.

Music Girl has a dresser and a closet with a system for where each type of clothing belongs.  However this system was developed by Oldest Girl and is rarely used.  Instead she just pulls her favorites out of the laundry basket until I tell her to put her clothes away because I'm running out of empty laundry baskets in which to pile clean laundry at which point she dumps the clean clothes on the floor and gives me an empty laundry basket.  About once a month or so Oldest heaves a big sigh and goes in to Music's room and puts things away where they "belong".  Music Girl is leaving on a school trip tomorrow so I hope Oldest Girl doesn't have much homework tonight as she will definately need to help pack.

Imagination Boy has the simplest system.  He takes his laundry basket and dumps the entire contents into the large plastic tub in his closet.  Done.

The Professor has a detailed and complicated system like Oldest Girl's but since he isn't interested in actually putting his clothes away himself he makes do with the somewhat more simplified system I'm willing to adhere to.

And I put my clothes away in a system that works for me more or less.  I find myself getting rid of clothes if they don't fit my system.

Since Oldest Girl is currently taking both Sociology and Psychology I figure she could do a term paper about our laundry habits and what it says about us.

Eating Out American Style

Another adjustment to life in America has been eating out.

Image courtesy of KEKO64 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Since we moved into a house and almost immediately tore apart the kitchen we did a fair bit of this.

We are still trying to get used to the differences between America and Japan.  These include

• getting a bill and paying the waiter rather than going up to the counter to pay.

One of the first times we went out Music Girl was horrified when we started to walk out of the restaurant.  "Dad, we can't leave without paying."  She had missed the subtle exchange between her father and the waiter at the table.

• being able to ask questions.

At a Thai restaurant Oldest Girl was concerned that a certain choice might be too spicy for her.  "You can just ask the waitress how spicy it really is." the Professor suggested.  It hadn't occurred to her that such a thing was possible.

• kid friendly food everywhere

My picky eaters are still adjusting to the fact that it is nearly impossible for us to choose a restaurant where they can't find something on the menu they like.



And that's just the tip of the iceberg.  Other differences include:

• quantity versus quality
• large glasses of water refilled frequently versus one tiny glass that you have to ask to have refilled or do it yourself
• enormous menus with a wide variety versus a plastic food display with a few choice options
• waiters who try to take your order when you have barely begun to read that enormous menu versus a button to push when you are ready to order

The kids have really enjoyed all the burger joints that seem to have sprung up in our absence.  It is their goal to try them all, purely for comparison purposes.  So far the winner is Smash Burger which happens to be walking distance from our house.  Unfortunately it isn't as healthy or as cheap as Kappa Sushi which was even closer to our house in Japan, but it is tasty.

Mo-crastination

School has begun and we have a new word in our house, coined by Imagination Boy and now a key part of our family vocabulary-

Mo-crastination

Mo-crastination is the practice of procrastinating by moping.

photo credit: Cayusa via photopin ccn

In our house it commonly goes something like this:

"I can't believe I have so much homework.  How am I ever going to get it all done?  I'm tired and I just want to go to bed.  But I can't because I have all this homework.  How am I ever going to get it all done?  I don't even know where to start. How am I ever going to get it all done?  No I don't need any help.  I just don't know how to do it.  How am I ever going to get it all done?  I can't believe I have so much homework.."

And repeat.  Over and over and over.

You get the idea.

Mo-crastination has all the downside of regular procrastination in that no work actually gets done minus the upside of at least enjoying quality leasure time (such as computer games) while procrastinating.

Plus it has the dubious side effect of DRIVING YOUR FAMILY CRAZY.

This could be a long year.

The Summer that Wasn't

This was the summer that wasn't.

It's not that there was no summer. There was.

There was time off of school.

There was hot weather.

There was sun from early morning to late evening.

Image courtesy of David Castillo / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

But for us, this was the summer that wasn't summer in the ways we appreciate summer the most.

There wasn't a summer family vacation.

There wasn't time lazing about the house sleeping late, reading a few good books, getting bored.

There wasn't time spent just hanging out with friends free from the pressures of the school year schedule.

There weren't any friends.

Because this was the summer we moved.

And it was hard.  It IS hard.


I need to write more about our summer and our transition and the ways we have learned and grown.

But first let me write briefly about the summer that was.


There was a summer spent together as a family.

There was the challenge of stretching ourselves physically, mentally, and emotionally and realizing we are capable of handling and doing more than we thought.

There was fresh fruit and vegetables and meat on the grill and laughter and love at the dinner table.


It is difficult to let go of what was and embrace what is.  Change is hard.  Major change is even harder. But change is inevitable.  Embrace it.  Mourn it.  Celebrate it.  Roll with it.

Toothpaste multiplies

So apparently while our backs have been turned the toothpaste in our house has been procreating.

This is the only possible explanation I have come up with for this

little baby toothpastes which Oldest Girl gathered from various nooks and crannies in the bathrooms today.

And this pile doesn't include the large tubes we regularly use (the parents I suppose)

Or the ones we threw away because they were a brand no one in the house would use.

Or the ones already packed inside each family member's individual toiletry kit.


About 2 months ago the Professor decreed that no more shampoo or conditioner would be purchased in this house.  Instead we would use up supplies on hand.

There was much weeping and nashing of teeth.

This was totally unreasonable.  I assured my female offspring that we would indeed buy a big bottle of the preferred brand as soon as we used up all the little bottles which would of course be within a week or two.

Silly me.

We have purchased no additional hair care products nor will we until after we are in our new home.

Unleavened Bagels

Who knew that my children like unleavened bagels?

Image courtesy of Marcus / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

As I've mentioned before we are in full blown, must eat everything that is in the cupboards, mode of moving house.

It's interesting what things I seem to have stock piled.  The content of our cupboards currently, after almost a month of dedicated eating from the pantry are as follows:

• lots of diced tomatoes (it was a fantastic sale lasting several weeks. I would go to the store and see a great price on tomatoes and pick up a few more cans.  Then I would get home and see how many I already had.  Oops.  Of course I would do it all again the next week.)

• lots of ramen noodles ( I may have sent the Professor to the store and mentioned that we were out of ramen)

• an incredible amount of sugar sprinkles and other cookie decorating supplies (I almost never make cookies or cakes you decorate and I've apparently been collecting other people's leftovers as they moved away for 6 years now.  I know I didn't buy this stuff)

• Tequila (what can I say, Margaritas always sound like a good idea but I never actually make them)

• lots of Kool-aid packets (If the evidence wasn't piled up and spilling over in the deep dark corners of my pantry, I would have sworn that we never ever drank kool-aid as a family.

• instant pancake mix (this one actually makes sense and I think we can use this up by the time we leave.   Pancakes are a hit around here for any meal of the day)

• oatmeal, lots and lots of oatmeal (I was eating oatmeal ever morning for a long time.  Then I did a grain free month.  Today's agenda includes baking a ton of oatmeal cookies for the Boy Scout bake sale)

That is not an exhaustive list, just the highlights.  And that certainly doesn't cover the many items we have managed to use up.  I've been doing a lot of baking to use up the vast quantities of flour we had.

Which brings me back to the unleavened bagels.  Two out of my three children eat bagels every morning for breakfast.  Usually I just buy frozen bagels but I have all this flour and yeast to use up so homemade bagels it is.

I made two batches.  The first turned out fine.  The second batch, however, never did rise and I'm pretty sure I forgot to add yeast.  I decided to cook them anyway because at least I could feed them to the dog and I had the oven on already for batch #1.

I put my unleavened bagels on the table at dinnertime along with our spagetti.  

"Think of them like really heavy round bread sticks," I told the kids.

I think those bagels may be the only thing Imagination boy ate for dinner. 

This morning both children choose unleavened bagels for breakfast and Imagination boy made his lunchtime sandwiches using them too.

I guess yeast is over rated.

MIddle Child Woes

It isn't easy being a middle child.  I should know.  I am one.  And so is the Professor.

Music girl is our middle child.

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I have written posts featuring Oldest girl and I have written posts featuring Imagination Boy.  I wanted to write a post featuring Music girl.

Turns out that all the best stories including Music girl seem to involve her older sister or younger brother in some way.

I've started writing a post highlighting Music girl's awesome uniqueness and I'm finding it nearly impossible to without using phrases like, "Unlike her sister." or "In contrast to her brother."

As a middle child myself, I want to scream about the unfairness of this all.

I had to stop writing this post and go apologize to Music girl.

I apologized for all the times and ways her middle childness has hurt her and I haven't noticed even though I think as a middle child myself I'm sensitive to the issues.

And then I sat down and wrote a post (read it here) just about her.

'Cause Music girl is awesome, just as she is, and I wanted to celebrate that.

Homework: old school or new school.

When did we turn into our parents?

Scene at our house last night. Oldest girl is at the computer writing a paper with her textbook in her lap.

Image courtesy of imagerymajestic / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

"I really wish my textbook had a control F feature," she sighed.

What's that, I wondered but didn't say.

The Professor laughed.  Ah, I thought, he is hipper than I am.

"It does," he said.  "It's called the index and you find it in the back of the book."  Okay so maybe he isn't hipper after all.

Sometimes we like to amuse ourselves by telling the children stories about the bad old days when we did homework

• without computers
• with typewriters
• and white out
• or pencils and pens and (heaven forbid) legible cursive writing
• and dictionaries
• and calculators that only added, subtracted, multiplied, and divided
• and logarithm charts
• and microfilche 
• and books and libraries
• and card catalogues

They find this amazing and lame and it reinforces their impressions that we really are ancient and out of touch.

Which is exactly how I viewed my parents.  My mom went to school in a one room country schoolhouse.  My dad was president of his high school slide rule club.  And they both walked uphill, 5 miles, both ways, in the snow, everyday to get to school.

So what I wonder is what changes will my kids be telling their kids about?

• lectures with powerpoint
• having to hand write exams

If you have any ideas what our kids will complain about to their kids, leave a comment.

How to get your kids to play the piano

I have found the secret to getting my kids to play the piano.

Suggest selling it.

Image courtesy of Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

In preparation for a major move we have had many discussions about what should and what shouldn't move with us.

Three years ago our piano teacher moved away and while we meant to find a new teacher it somehow never happened so the piano just sits, taking up precious space in the living room.

Until someone with a small child comes to visit.  I don't know what it is about pianos and small children but rare is the child who can resist banging on one.

That didn't seem like a good enough reason to move a piano across oceans however so tonight at dinner we discussed selling it.

Imagination boy was the only one who didn't think it was a good idea.  In fact he asked to be excused from the table so he could go play the piano right now.

He then proceeded to sit down at the piano and play the most beautiful, haunting melody of his own composition, made up on the spot.

I guess we won't be selling the piano.

Memories or Junk

One of the hardest parts of any move is sorting through all the stuff that you never use but somehow find it hard to part with.

And how do you decide which of the kids artwork and handicrafts make the cut?

quinn.anya via photopin cc

My mother and my mother in law neatly illustrate two opposite ends of the spectrum on this issue.

When we were newly married and trying to furnish an apartment, my MIL offered us a dresser that was  in her basement.

"You just have to clean it out first," she said.

It turned out to be full of the Professor's school papers.  And I'm not talking interesting stuff like stories he wrote or drawings.  It was full of ditto master worksheets like circle the object that starts with the letter "C" and old spelling tests.

My mother, on the other hand, had to be watched carefully or she would throw away a book I was reading that I had left sitting on the coffee table.*

As a mom now myself I can emphasize with both approaches, the desire to hold on to tangible evidence of a time now past and the desire to have a clean slate and live in the present.

So when the kids were 7, 5, and 3, and we were facing a downsizing move, I decided to turn some of the decision making over to the kids.

I started with Oldest Girl.  I gathered up all her artwork, school papers, etc. and made a huge pile.

"I want you to sort through all these things and decide what is important to you to keep.  See this trash bin?  Throw away anything that isn't really important to you.  See this big bin?  This is for artwork that is special to you that you want to keep that we will put into storage so you won't have it now but will have it again someday.  And see this little bin?  This is for those few things that are so special to you they need to move with us so you can have them near you."

Oldest girl took the job very seriously.  She sat down and carefully considered each piece of paper.  Some items moved from the storage box to the keep box and back several times as she weighed her options.  In the end, there was an overflowing trash bin and full storage and keep bins with their lids on.

So I moved on to music girl and gave her the same instructions.

Music girl looked at the situation.

"You have these sizes wrong," she said, switching the larger storage bin for the smaller keep bin.  She then got down to work.

In the end, there was nothing in the trash bin, a couple items in the storage bin and a completely overflowing keep bin.

I didn't even try with Imagination boy.

Sometimes it is hard to part with the objects that spark memories.  I'm greatful that I never have to part with the memories themselves.  And thus this blog.

__________________
*This was especially true if the book had a scantily clad woman on the cover, which happened a lot since I read a lot of science fiction as a teenager and it was practically a requirement to have a scantily clad woman on the cover whether the story included any women or not.

Am I Like My Dad?

I enjoy telling stories about my dad that gently poke fun, but how much am I really like him?

I wrote about my Dad's attempt to teach me to drive.  His approach was basically to throw me in way past my comfort level.  I would never do that to my kids. Would I?

irina slutsky via photopin cc

So yesterday I'm driving my van with Oldest Girl in the front seat.  I had to roll the window down to show my ID at the gate.

Since I was driving the car the Professor normally drives, I forgot that it is important never to completely roll down the window since the automatic window motor is old and tired and doesn't like to work that hard.

(The fact that I drive a car with a worn out but not replaced window motor is yet another sign that I am like my Dad and an even bigger sign that I married a man who is very much like my Dad.)

It isn't that big of a deal because you can always get the window back up if you pull up on it while the motor is working.  Just giving it a little help so to speak.

The only problem is this requires 2 hands which is a problem if you are continuing to drive.

Now Dad could have solved this easily as he was skilled at steering with his knees.  I remember him folding newspapers and delivering them while expertly driving hands free.

I am not that much like my Dad.  I apparently lack the knee steering gene.

So there I am driving along with the window stuck down and cold air rushing in.  Other people might have pulled over to fix it but not my Father's daughter.

"Oldest girl,  Grab the steering wheel.  I need you to steer while I pull up the window"

Oldest girl did not think this was a good idea.

"Come on Oldest girl.  You will be learning to drive soon.  This is good practice.  Just steer for a bit.  What could go wrong?"

Oldest girl still did not think this was a good idea.*

"How are you ever going to learn to drive if you aren't willing to steer a little bit?"

Finally Oldest girl reached over and grabbed the wheel.  I turned my attention to the window and managed to get it pulled up while Oldest girl very carefully steered us.

"See I told you this was a bad idea," Oldest girl said.

"You did fine," I assured her.  "We didn't hit anyone or anything and the window is now up."

Oldest girl was not amused.

So maybe I'm more like my Dad than I like to think.  But maybe being like my Dad isn't such a bad thing to be.

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*For the record, Oldest girl wants it pointed out that I drove right past a perfect opportunity to pull over. and in addition, her arguing with me about steering was not due to fear but rather that this was not the best way for her to learn to drive. In fact, she mantains that she was never steering the car but merely touched the wheel to make me happy.

Choosing a Family Activity

I wrote a post about choosing a family activity over at the morebettersmarts website.  Check it out here

Tooth Fairy

At our house it can take many days for the tooth fairy to remember to visit.

land_camera_land_camera via photopin cc

Usually by that time the tooth has long since disappeared which (as I explained to my children) isn't a problem because as long as there was a genuine lost tooth at some point, the tooth fairy is happy to leave money.  When she finally remembers to visit.

Hey, what can I say,  the tooth fairy's brain doesn't function all that well in the evening.

It wasn't always this way though.  When Oldest Girl was losing her first teeth the tooth fairy was much more on the ball.  Once she lost a tooth while we were on vacation in France.  She went to bed, tooth under pillow, confident that the tooth fairy would find her.

So the Professor and I stayed up late writing a letter from the tooth fairy  IN FRENCH,  which, no, neither of us really knows beyond a few words, using only a English copy of Harry Potter and the French version of Harry Potter (which happened to be in the cottage we were renting) to find the necessary vocabulary.*

She was delighted.

Fast forward to this morning.  Imagination boy loses a tooth while eating breakfast.

"Hey Mom,  Do you want to just buy the tooth from me now so I don't have to bother putting it under my pillow and I don't have to keep reminding you every night?"

Sigh.  Where has the magic gone?


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*the crazy things we did in the dark days before we had smart phones

Is it Punishment if You Enjoy it?

Imagination Boy can be difficult to discipline.

Wesley Fryer via photopin cc/td>

When he was in 1st grade his teacher told me she was trying to find the right combination of incentives and punishments to get him to follow the rules.  I told her if she found something that worked to please let me know as I had been trying to answer that question his entire life.

Imagination Boy was born very happy and self sufficient.  Where his older sisters genuinely desired to please their teachers, Imagination Boy was perfectly happy to tolerate his teachers as long as they didn't interfere too much with his agenda.

He came home from 3rd grade one day and told me he had gotten in trouble at lunch and had to sit alone at the naughty table.

"How did you feel about that?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.  "It was kind of nice.  There was no one to interrupt me while I made stories in my head."

Another time he had to stay after school for a minor infraction.

He was all smiles as he got in the car carrying a paper mache shark almost the same size as him.

"It was really lucky I had to stay after school. Some people didn't bring their sharks home and today was the last day to bring them home and the teacher was just going to throw them out so I got to bring this home with me."

Punishment is all in the mind of the one being punished.  How often do you reward someone you mean to punish?  "If you are going to ignore me, I'll just stop talking to you."  To punish, as in so many other things, you have to truly put yourselves in the other person's shoes and see from his perspective.  And sometimes, once you truly do that.  You lose the desire to punish.

Getting Away With It

It may or may not be fair but, people often judge you based on past behavior and not the reality of the situation.

Sam Howzit via photopin cc

When Oldest Girl was in first grade sometimes I would join her class for lunchtime.  It always brought me back to my childhood to see all the children in a line walking down the hallway swinging their lunch boxes.

Oldest Girl was a model first grader in a class full of rowdy boys.  She found it easy to sit quietly and follow directions and she genuinely desired to please the teacher.  (This made it very easy for me to be smug about my parenting skills until Imagination Boy started school, but that's another story).

On this particular day as the children walked down the hall Oldest Girl was behind a little boy who was not following all the rules of proper line walking behavior.  He was skipping and weaving and talking and laughing.

So Oldest Girl took her lunchbox and hauled off and whacked him on the head with it.  Hard.  Then she just kept walking as if nothing had happened.

"Teacher" he cried, "Oldest Girl just hit me on the head with her lunchbox. Hard"

The teacher looked at him in disbelief.  "Oldest Girl would never do anything like that.  Stop making things up and get back into line."

The boy gave up and got back into line.  Oldest Girl smiled and enjoyed her lunch.

You will get judged on your reputation whether it is fair or not.  If you generally do the right thing people will expect you to be doing the right thing and will usually give you the benefit of the doubt.  If you generally do the wrong thing,  they will assume negative behavior even when none exists.